


my body breaks, from all the weight on my shoulders

by Princex_N



Series: i felt all the aches my heart could take. [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ableism, Autism, Autistic Frisk, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Frisk, One use of the R-slur, Suicide Attempt, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse of Frisk upon the mountain, and the steps it took to get there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my body breaks, from all the weight on my shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song ["2.5 mg just ain't enough for me"](https://soundcloud.com/frnkiero-1/25mg-just-aint-enough-for-me) by frnkiero and the cellabration.

You sigh as you look at the mountain, sitting in the distance, on the edge of the horizon straight forward from the bus stop. 

You're thinking about the bus driver. When the bus stopped a foot away from you, and the flare of irritation that you felt as you climbed on, an emotion mirrored back at you from the bus driver, irritated by the way you were standing in the street instead of at the stop on the bus stop. 

You think of how the next expression she'd given you had been a stricken one after you had pulled the cord for the stop closest to Mount Ebott. How her grief filled eyes had followed you from your seat to the door, where you signed  _[Thank you]_ and  _[Goodbye]_  and stepped off the bus before she could say anything to you. 

You think that she'll probably be the only person to think about you later, and then you start your walk. 

-

The mountain is a lot bigger than you expected, looking up the incline from the base. The dim light of the early morning is starting to fill the sky. You'd gotten up early to do this, because you hadn't wanted to run into anyone. You hadn't wanted to second guess yourself before you managed to get here. 

You already feel exhausted, just looking up the mountain that you're about to climb. And it's not regular exhaustion, it's not caused by the trek from the bus stop to the mountain, and it's not anticipation of the sore muscles that would be caused by this hike. It goes all the way down into your bones and into your very soul. 

You're so tired of everything. 

That's why you're here, after all. 

You're tired of being where you are, being trapped where you are, and you can't see any way out of it. This is the only thing you could think of, after months and months of thinking.

Even here, so far away from home, you can feel the disapproving glares of your parents on the back of your neck. You feel the shame crawling on your back. You can't handle the weight of it anymore.

You take a deep breath and start to walk up.

-

You think it's funny, that you've gone all this way to get away from your mother and you still can't stop thinking about her.

You guess that you should have expected it. You're here because of her, why wouldn't you be thinking about her?

You just wish that you could stop. 

Wish that you could stop thinking about everything that's happened to drive you here. The casual biting comments that she makes, about you, your "abnormality", your "sinful existence", your "burden".

They're toxic poison, and you can't even tell if it's all real or not. 

It feels real. When your mom says all of those things to you. When she calls you "she" and "her" and asks "Why did you choose to do this to yourself?", as if you had a choice in your gender.

When she holds down your hands and tells you, "Stop moving like that, they're going to think you're retarded, you're making me look bad", as if you could just stop stimming whenever she wanted you to. 

When she scoffs and says "You can talk, I've heard you do it, stop trying to make up excuses to be lazy, if you can speak some of the time, you can speak all of the time, now put your hands down because I don't have time to sit here and try to figure out what you're trying to say to me", whenever you try to sign to her. 

The too aggressive to be sincere "I'll pray for you"s and "You're my  _daughter_ "s.

The tossed around words like "disappointment" and "burden".

The endless "Why aren't you trying harder"s, the "you can do better than this", the "why were you born like this"s, the "why are you doing this to me"s. _  
_

You just can't deal with it anymore.

So many questions, so many statements, so many words that make you feel like shit. Like you're something despicable to be around. Like you're the worst kind of person out there. 

You're tired of having to deal with her hate. You're tired of trying to keep your body still. You're tired of suffering through hugs and touches and sounds and smells without moving or covering your eyes and ears and hiding away from the input. You're tired of pretending like you're a girl. You're tired of pretending like you're okay with being called "she" and "her" and "daughter", just to keep her happy.

You're tired of trying so hard, only to have to deal with it all blowing up in your face, when you finally gather up the courage to confront her, to ask her "why?", "Have I done anything?", "Is it something I can fix?" (You're so tired of trying to fix it. Will she stop if you pretend like you're straight? Will she stop if you pretend like you're cis? Will she stop if you pretend like you're allistic? She doesn't ever stop, you don't  _understand_ what you're doing wrong. You're tired of always feeling like you're doing something wrong.)

When you finally gather up the courage to ask _her_ some questions, only to get the tears, the sadness, the guilt trip you  _knew_ was coming but fell for anyway.

The "Why are you accusing me of this?"s, the "I'm just worried about you"s, the "It's for your own good"s.

You're tired of wondering who's at fault here. _Are_ you doing something wrong? Are you a bad kid? Is she a bad mom? You're tired of wondering if you're being abused, but never being able to figure it out. And you're tired of being too scared of being right to ask anyone for their advice or input.

She's your mom. You love her. Aren't you supposed to love her? 

Isn't she supposed to love you?

 

...Why doesn't she love you?

 

You don't know. You don't know, but you think that the sooner you get away from it all, the better off everyone will be. 

-

It's cold. The light is brighter now, burning your eyes because you hadn't thought to bring your sunglasses. You hadn't exactly been dressing for comfort when you decided that this morning was the morning that you were going to climb Mount Ebott. As it is, you're wearing short shorts and your favorite sweater. The one that is heavy and warm and soft and smells like your lavender laundry detergent. The one that is always able to calm you down from your meltdowns, and the one your mom took away from you whenever she felt like you deserved it. (She felt like you deserved it a lot)

It's warm, but it's not enough to keep you warm, but, you suppose it won't really matter in a bit.

You're almost to the top now.

-

You wonder if you're making a bad decision. If maybe your mom was right, and you're just making things up. Exaggerating the truth, and seeing conflict where there isn't anything. If you're making things up to feel persecuted because you're nothing but a pathetic attention seeker. 

You can't tell anymore. If she's right. If you're right. Everything about your life has blended into one big mess that you couldn't sort out if you were being paid to do so. 

So it's well enough that you're doing this. It doesn't matter if your mom is right and you're making it all up, or if you're right and she's abusing you. If you're a bad kid or if she's a bad mom. It doesn't matter anymore. 

None of it matters anymore. 

You can see it now, and you push yourself forwards, until finally, there you are, standing neatly at the edge of the giant, gaping hole. 

You can't see the bottom of it, it's not exactly bright out yet, and you don't know if it's going to be deep enough to kill you.

You guess it doesn't really matter. No one has ever said that anyone who goes to Mount Ebott dies there, they just disappear and no one ever sees or hears from them again. 

And that's exactly what you need right now. 

You don't care where you end up as long as you're far away from here, and as long as you disappear and never come back. 

You're never going to go back.

You take a deep breath. You glance up at the trees, and the sight of the weak morning light filtering through the tree branches, and the sounds of the birds beginning to sing, it fills you with determination. 

And so you step off the ledge, and you fall down the hole. 

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836807) by [wishfulThoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulThoughts/pseuds/wishfulThoughts)




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